One Twin Ago
by always-a-time
Summary: Ron couldn't stand the way George was acting. George Weasley had locked himself in the flat above the shop that had housed 'Mr. and Mr. Weasley.' Ron had known only Fred would be able to convince his twin. "Take it, George. It's the stone- just turn it."


Although it was only a week after his twin's death, Ron couldn't stand the way George was acting. George Weasley had locked himself in the flat above the shop that had housed, 'Mr. and Mr. Weasley.' It was the first time George had been up there without Fred at his side. The last time they had been there, they had been together, things weren't the same without Fred, even more so without George.

Ron made the decision to try and talk his brother out of his depression. Everyone had told him to give George time. But it wasn't time George needed, this wasn't something you could just move on from. Ron made his way up the stairs, eyes travelling over the where the family photos had used to hang. Now on the hooks hung mirrors, all perfectly polished. Ron understood George's need to see his brother.

All Ron could see was the same scene over and over. Turning just in time to see the wall blast, Ron had dived out of the way, shoving Percy as he went. There had been no time to warn Harry or Hermione, who had both been standing too far from him to reach. The blast had been too deafening to hear his cries. Ron remembered Percy's cry, the sound he thought was because of the castle wall being blown to bits.

He had felt his stomach drop, had Hermione and Harry survived? Had Fred survived? He hadn't even thought of Fred yet. Ron had stood up, rubbing the dust off his face so he could see, reaching a hand out to Percy to pull him up. Had he known then, had he known what had happened? Percy had known, Percy had seen it all.

It was Percy who screamed, Percy who stood up of his own accord, pushing Ron out of the way. "No, no NO! FRED! NO!" Ron spun, disoriented, following Percy over to Fred. Fred was okay, he was okay, it was just a chunk of plaster, he was only unconscious. It couldn't be a spell, no …

But it was horribly wrong, Percy was shaking his brother's limp body, and Ron didn't know what to do. Fred's face was frozen, laugh lines on his face. "No, Fred, no …" Percy's cheeks were streaked with tears, his voice a moan. Ron could only watch in horror.

Nearly walking into the door brought Ron out of his reverie. Slowly he raised a fist to knock on the door. His hand trembled, his fist hit the door. It swung open, unlocked the whole time. The flat was a mess, from what Ron could see, there were boxes and order forms strewn about the apartment. Upon entering, Ron could see the odd coloured puffs emitting from the potted plant in the corner of the room. There were no mirrors in here, simply sets and sets of Etendable Ears, all severed in half. "George," Ron whispered, "George."

There was a muffled cough from the bedroom. "Go away," the voice croaked, sounding dry from lack of use. George's voice, the same as Fred's, caused Ron to wince internally. Missing Fred made it hard to look at George, even harder for George to look at himself.

"George, it's me, Ron," he said, cautiously approaching the door, "I want to talk to you, just talk … about Fred." Ron was sure George would get mad at him now, for so much as mentioning his brother's name.

But this seemed the right thing to say to George, "Alright," was the reluctant answer. Ron opened the door and steeled himself. George was a mess, of course, unwashed ginger hair and stubbly chin sat on the carpet floor. Photographs were scattered around the room, on the walls, all of the twins together. "What'd you want."

"I wanted to see you, George," Ron said slowly, sitting down next to him. Ron felt older than he ever had before. The twins were the positive ones, the rock upon which Ron had steadied himself on, even though he had endured relentless teasing from both twins. "Mum and dad miss you. We all miss you. We miss Fred too, don't make us miss you too, George. Come back to the burrow for a visit. I can help you get cleaned up …" his voice trailed hopefully.

"No," his answer left his lips before Ron could finish his hope. "D'you think I could do that Ron. Go back to them without him? D'you think I want them to all feel sorry for me, tell me they understand? They don't. He was the only person in the world to me. They don't know."

"Fred wouldn't have wanted y-" began Ron, but he was cut off by George's glare.

"Don't you go telling me what he would want!" bellowed George, pulling his wand out.

"I KNEW HIM, RON. I WAS WITH HIM EVERYDAY, EVERYDAY EXCEPT THAT LAST DAY-" his voice broke. Ron was silent. George's regret at not being there for his brother was strong. There was only one thing left to do, one last resort.

"George," whispered Ron, pulling out a small stone bearing a jagged crack down the middle. George did not look up, merely continued his silent sobs.

Ron had known only Fred would be able to convince his twin. Hermione would be furious if she knew, Harry too. But it would be worth it, if they got George back. Ron as sure Fred could talk George into his senses.

It was only nights after the Battle of Hogwarts when Ron realized George was not going to make it. Everyone was picking up the pieces. Harry was undergoing turmoil, faced with the friends and family of the dead, all of whom wanted to thank him for what he had done. Harry had not even had time to mourn the deaths of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Hermione was with Kingsley and Percy, purging the Ministry of Death-Eaters, sorting out who was actually under the Imperius Curse. Ron was left with his grieving family until he could no longer stand it. He had trudged out to the Forbidden Forest with his Deluminator that very night.

"Take me to him," he had whispered, the cold night's air sending chills down his pine. "Find me the stone." Harry would kill him, but hadn't he been the one who wanted the the stone; Hermione the cloak; and he, Ron, the unbeatable wand? Now Harry was keeping his Cloak, and Ron knew Hermione wanted the wand, no matter how much she did not want to admit it. Once again his own words came back to him.

"You wouldn't need it, if you had the wand ... the unbeatable wand!" But Dumbledore had beat Grindlewald, hadn't he. He had asked Harry numerous times how the wand worked, but Harry had shrugged all the questions off, perhaps thinking that Ron wanted the wand for his own. Ron clicked the Deluminator, watched the blue orb float out and touch his heart. He recalled Hermione's words.

"You can't Apparate inside Hogwarts!" But this was different. Dumbledore's invention would take him where he needed to go. Ron spun on the spot.

He didn't know what to do now, however. Clutching the stone in his sweaty palm, he held it out to George. "Take it, George. It's the stone- just turn it over three times- and ..." Ron didn't know if George would understand.

George took the stone, examined it. Held it up to the light, then chucked it at Ron's head. "Bugger off."

"No," Ron said, "No. George, this- this is real!" Picking up the Resurrection Stone, Ron turned it over three times in his hand.

"George?" For one second, Ron would have thought it was George that spoken, but he knew better. Fred Weasley stood before them both, a worried expression on his face as he surveyed his twin.

"Georgie, it's me." Fred knelt down next to his brother, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. George shrugged it off.

"You left. You died. I can't, Fred. I can't do this, I can't be on my own." It was the defeat in his tone that shocked Fred, who stumbled, grabbing the bed nearby for support.

"Don't you dare say that, George. If it had to be one of us, I'm glad it was me. You're the good one, the one with our conscience. You're the one I looked up to. It was your idea to start the joke shop, remember? Your idea." Fred paused, as if thinking of more things to say. Fred looked at Ron, who was still rooted to the carpet, wearing a mixture of expressions, and seemed to draw strength from him.

"Ronniekins is right. Mum and dad need you."

George shook his head back and forth. Ron heard Hermione's voice in his head once more. "It's survivor's guilt! George feels like if he had been there, Fred wouldn't have had to die! If only he taken out Rookwood, the explosion wouldn't have happened!" Hermione was right, of course.

"No Fred, they need you," George said quietly, "Mum and dad miss you. Seeing me just makes things worse for them. They see you when they see me. It'll always be like that," he drew a shaky breath, "You know mum's clock, your hand is gone Fred, it's GONE!" George's words became a cry of fury once more, but he did not draw his wand as Fred wrapped his arms around the former's shaking form. "I can't do that to them Fred, I can't stay here. Take me back with you." George's arms reached to wrap themselves around Fred, with the air of a child reaching for it's mother.

"Pathetic," Fred said, withdrawing from George, causing the latter to shrink back, stung. "I died so you and everyone else could live in a safe world. You think you should just ditch our family- not to mention Harry and Hermione- to join me? Pathetic," he repeated, "that you think after what I died for you should throw your life away? Even locking yourself away from the world in our flat?"

Ron noted that at least George had the decency to look ashamed.

"Can't," said George, shaking, "can't. I'm not strong like you, Freddie. Can't be strong for mum and dad. C-can't." George hiccuped, avoiding Fred's unusually stern gaze, which was reminscent of Mrs. Weasley, "I'm not like you."

"Damn right you're not like me!" scowled Fred. "You're George, my twin, but you're not me. You never will be! So stop your pointless isolation. Mum and dad do want you, they want you because you're you. Won't you give them that, George? Do it for me, I can't bear to think mum's crying 'cause she's lost BOTH her sons."

George sat there, not moving for the longest time. The stone had become slippery with sweat in Ron's hands as he wondered what would happen if he tried to take it away from George. Fred waited for George's response patiently, more patient than Ron had ever seen him.

"Okay," said George, and that seemed to be the end of it.

Ron stood there, trying to think about how in the world he was going to get Fred away from George when- "It's okay. You can go, Ron. I'll clean myself up. Tell mum I'll be around for dinner tonight." Fred stood there too, trying to figure out George's reaction. But George was sitting up straight, moving his thin limbs as he struggled to get up. Ron had only just noticed how thin George really was. Hastening to help haul George up, Fred wrapped his arms around his brother's chest and pulled him up.

"I'm okay!" George said, protesting this time.

"If you're okay then I'm a dead Flobberworm," muttered Fred, pulling George's arm over his shoulder. "Since I'm not around anymore someone has to keep up the fabulous Weasley good-looks, and if it can't be me it'll have to be you."

Fred and George made their way over to the bathroom. "Ron, get him something to eat, if they're anything that hasn't got mold on it by now," Fred commanded, sounding strict still. Ron made his way over to the kitchen without comment and began rifling through cupboards. After a while he managed to find some dry crackers that still had a month or so in shelf-life, and some fresh fruit that had probably been delivered by their mum. Filling a glass of water, Ron thought about the oddness of the situation.

George had just agreed to stop moping. He had just agreed to stop moping. This seemed much better than Ron could have ever hoped for. Carrying the tray back to George's bedroom, Ron smiled to himself, happy. He set the tray down on the bed and knocked on the bathroom door. "I got some crackers and fruit." No one replied, there was only the sound of water running.

When Fred and George finally came out, they once more looked identical. It hit Ron like a landslide. "Fred, your ear- what?"

Fred looked confused for a moment, then cautiously raised a hand up to his left ear, just as George did the same. "What?" they both spoke at the same time. Both left ears were missing, both sides of the twins' heads had gaping holes. "Ron?" But Ron had sat down on the bed and buried his face in his hands, finger raking through his ginger hair as he tried to figure out what he'd done wrong.

Simultaneously, Fred and George turned to face each other. George's empty left ear facing away, and Fred's newly emptied left ear facing George. "What in Merlin's name-" George said, looking as absolutely confused as Ron felt.

"-happened to my ear?" Fred said, shrugging. "It doesn't really matter, does it?"

Ron and George tried and utterly failed to not look shocked. "Of course it matters!" George replied in a scandalized tone. "Your ear just disappeared! That doesn't just happen!"

"No really, does it matter? We're twins, George. And I'm dead anyways," he shrugged again.

George sat down next to Ron on the bed. This made no sense. What kind of logic followed that Fred's ear would disappear? Ron and George had identical looks, both aghast at Fred's nonchalant expression.

A silence stretched that lasted for minutes and minutes. It felt like hours, as George and Ron just stared at Fred. Ron was still holding the Stone in his hand, not even thinking about it.

Fred broke the silence, of course. "I think it's time for me to go now, that's why my ear is gone."

"Time ... for you- to go?" George repeated blankly, staring at his twin in newly-found confusion.

Ron's fingers closed tightly around the Stone. Now that he thought about it, he didn't want Fred to go. Why couldn't he just stay here, with them? Fred wouldn't mind, George ceratinly wouldn't mind. Neither would mum, now that he really thought about it.

"Time for me to go," Fred said firmly, stance set, eyes determined. "And as much as I'd like to stay, you know I can't."

"Why not?" Ron heard himself asking.

"I'm not really here. I'm just an imprint of myself here. I'm me, but I'm not really here. I don't want to be here. I've heard of what it does to families, Ron. It tears them apart. I can't do that to you or George or mum," Fred held his hand out, and both Ron and George looked at it. Fred's voice was very quiet as he posed his question. "Can I have the Stone, Ron?"

Ron's fingers twitched. Fred's expression was still determined, but patient, hand outstretched. The distance between the Stone and Fred's hand seemed much, much too far. Ron's arm reached out, hesitated. George's arm reached out too, grabbing Ron's arm.

"George," Fred said firmly. "No. You know that the answer is no."

George let go, his arm falling limply to his side, looking defeated. "I- I ... alright. I understand." So Ron dropped the Resurrection Stone into Fred's palm, and Fred smiled.

"I've never really left at all," Fred was saying, still smiling, "I'll always be here." The tip of his finger lightly touched George's heart, and Ron swore he saw the fabric ripple with the movement.

"I love you." Ron wasn't sure who had said it.

"Goodbye, Forge." Fred's smile began fading, and George sat on the bed, transfixed as his twin disappeared into the bright green wallpaper.

"Goodbye, Gred."


End file.
